


As The Sun Rises

by Jackolidus



Series: Will it Stick? [3]
Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Alcohol, Authors, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Writing, angry managers, conferences, panel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-24 05:13:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30067179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackolidus/pseuds/Jackolidus
Summary: Todd's mantra had been that the story would end with him, but he's tired of writing and he's not quite ready to die.
Series: Will it Stick? [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2212059





	As The Sun Rises

Todd Sparrow sat behind his microphone, waiting for the nervous teenage girl to finish asking her question. She was blonde, she had a stuffed animal in her arms, and her glasses were so thick he worried about her vision just a little. She was rambling. Her stutter made it difficult for Todd to understand, but he wasn’t listening, anyway. She was less asking a question and more gushing about her love for his ability to create dramas that hit so close to home. 

Teenage girls loved his writing. Serial novels that never seemed to end, full of romance and drama and double entendre. Sure, he got plenty of angry letters from mothers who thought his work was too mature for their little princesses, but his lawyer promised that it wasn’t his fault the kids were wandering to the young adult fiction sections of their run-down libraries and picking up books that they were too young to understand. If it was anyone’s fault, it was the publisher’s. 

“Basically,” the girl said, blushing pink when she realized she’d been talking for as long as she had, “my question is about when it’s going to end.” She chewed on her lip and handed the mic back to the staff member who’d handed it to her in the first place. 

Todd watched her fumble her way back to her seat as he prepared to answer the question he’d answered millions of times. It was on every book jacket, on every forward page, in every magazine article, and in thousands of YouTube clips. 

“I have always said that life is just a train barreling down the tracks,” he began, quoting himself one-thousand times over. “It’s full of heartbreak and destruction and peril. And it ends abruptly, with an uncarved tunnel, with death.” There were a thousand Todds behind him, speaking in unison. “My story will end when I do.”

He smiled. He wanted to make sure that everyone knew he was a pleasant guy. 

~

With the right ID lanyard, you could go anywhere. Or, more specifically, you could keep anyone out. Todd had capitalized on that fact, hiding from the masses at the after party in the VIP section. He had been one of the VIPs, and he had been very drunk. 

This was his explanation to his manager the next morning, when she’d called him before his alarm went off to inform him that he’d announced the ending of As the Sun Rises to a journalist the night before. 

“This is a quote,” she squawked, tinny over the phone, which was on the pillow next to Todd’s pounding head, “‘I hate writing that fucking shit, I’m burning it all tomorrow, don’t expect another fucking chapter.’”

He didn’t say anything. What was he supposed to say? Sorry?

“I’m going to fucking kill you, Sparrow. But first I’m going to write a heartfelt apology for your social media and post it for you, and I need you to write a counter-article and post that to your blog before lunch.”

He grunted, rubbed his eyes. “Your time or my time?”

She laughed at him, but she did it coldly. “My time. You have four hours.”

“I was drunk,” he muttered, making excuses. “It wasn’t my fault.”

“Yeah, well, we’re about to drown in fan tears. Fix this.”

~

Mike met him at breakfast, toting a backpack and a briefcase. He plunked them down at a booth in the corner. “You have a panel today?” he asked, pulling a laptop from the backpack. 

Todd sniffed and rubbed his forehead. His brain was still pounding. “At six.”

“Late fucking panel,” Mike muttered. He was a big guy, wearing his extra large polo shirt and his VIP lanyard like a shield. “You need to be on time to that. I’m sure there will be lots of questions.”

Todd ordered a coffee for himself and waited until the waiter was gone to sigh. “I didn’t write an apology.”

Mike didn’t look up. “Why not?”

“Because I considered suicide as a valid way to be allowed to stop writing.” 

That got Mike’s attention. “What?”

“The whole, ‘the story ends when I do’ thing…” he gestured vaguely. “I’ve been saying it for years, not really thinking. You know, when I started, I really loved the story. I used to be that invested. But, you know, ten years later, the kids keep reading and I can’t keep up. And I don’t want to.”

Mike’s brow was furrowed. “What are you saying, man?”

Todd looked down at his clasped hands, dark in contrast with the white table. “I don’t want to write it anymore. I want it to end. And I can't decide if it’s hypocrisy to let it end without me ending myself.” He picked at the menu, hands abandoning each other. “I can’t let them down by ending the story without…you know.”

“A tragic death.”

Todd shrugged and nodded. The waiter set down his coffee and Mike’s tea. “I’m not, like, seriously considering it, or anything. But I…I’m just done.”

Mike’s frown was deep. “Just make sure you kill it with grace, okay?”


End file.
